


The Problem of Salvation

by spirogyra



Series: Humanitas, Caritas, and Temperantia Will Save Him [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Abuse, Angels, Angels are Dicks, Fallen Angels, Hell, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slash, fallen angels and demons are dicks too, non-specific religion, sin and virtue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirogyra/pseuds/spirogyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are going well, even if Newt knows his soul is damned. Of course, even that is too easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meditating on the Eternal Pains

Newt was sitting up, using his tablet, when Hermann woke up.

"Morning, sleepyhead! I've never seen you sleep in this late before."

"Mm. Your presence seems to help."

"Aww. Anytime, featherpants." Newt tried to control his grin, tried to keep it just an indulgent smile, but that was something he wasn't very good at.

" _Featherpants_? Sometimes I wonder how your mind works."

"Everything is six degrees of, dude. It's a very complicated process."

"Featherpants was a complicated process?"

Newt set his tablet aside to concentrate fully on Hermann and his look of incredulity. "Extremely." He leaned down place a kiss just on the end of Hermann's nose. "I could go over it with you, if you want." Another kiss that Hermann lifted his head for so that it landed on the corner of his mouth.

"I have my doubts about just how complicated it could be."

"Majorly complicated. I spend weeks developing them." A kiss, one that lingered, and properly placed this time. "Could take me an hour to explain it."

Hermann's hand threaded through the hair on the back of Newt's head and pulled him back down close. "That sounds acceptable, as long as you can keep my attention."

The grin is indefatigable. Newt grinned more than he smiled, more often felt giddy and excited than happy. "Herm," he said, still grinning, but his overall expression was more sheepish than normal, and there was a blush forming on his cheeks. "Could I…? I guess, I mean, could I, like…" He made a vague gesture with his hands that might have been landing signals for a flock of geese.

Newt huffed at Hermann's lack of understanding, then leaned down to whisper, "I wanna be inside you."

"All right."

Simple as that. How could this all be just that simple and so fucking complicated at the same time? Life just wasn't fair. But Newt smiled, actually smiled as he undressed Hermann. "Won't you be late?"

"For what?"

"Work." He tossed Hermann's, and then his own, pajamas on the floor from under the blanket.

"I can adjust my hours for today. For you."

***

Hermann made his way to the lab right on schedule, even with Newt's presence making him adjust. Routine was something he valued, had learned it kept him sane several hundred years ago, to allow him to operate without keeping his attention on the world around him every moment of the day. Even sleep didn't give him that kind of freedom; it was only in the moments of automatic operation, muscle memory that let his mind become silent. Even just the small amount of time walking from his room to the lab, he'd take that silence.

Only to be violently ripped out of it when he stepped into the lab.

"Always reveling in the mundane. I don't understand you."

Hermann stopped short, stunned, then jerked as the door shut behind him with an echoing slam. As surprised as he was, Hermann somehow managed to remain calm and composed. "A fact that doesn't disappoint me, Dietrich." His hand was clenching his cane so tightly he could feel the design in the brass being pressed into his flesh as he desperately avoided looking at Newt.

"You had your diversion, going against everything we're here for," Lars said, cutting off the verbal sparring. "But that's done with. You're done here. I didn't want to force your hand, but from our last conversation, I know that's the only thing that will convince you." He waved his in Dietrich's direction. "This is your fault, which is amusing because any other of us would be amused by it all."

They all maintained their mortal disguises which meant that when Dietrich backhanded Newt, it merely split his lip rather than breaking his jaw.

Newt's glasses went flying, clattering to the floor under a desk.

Dietrich's fingers worked into his hair to yank his head up, only to slam his fist into Newt's gut and make him double over. Dietrich let him fall to the floor to promptly kick him in the ribs.

Coughing turned into vomiting as the toe of Dietrich's shoe impacted with Newt's gut. And then it slowly pushed down on Newt's head, forcing his face into the small stinking puddle, and held it there. "I could do this for days."

"Days. Is that what you want?"

Hermann's mind was whirring at a thousand RPMs and accomplishing exactly nothing. He had no plan, no way out of this that he could see. The three of them would overwhelm him if he tried something, and then Newt would only suffer that much more.

With a bored sigh and a disappointed look in his eyes, Lars gestured to the whimpering Newt. "He's not convinced. Continue. And it will continue until you see what's best for you."

Dropping to his knees, Dietrich pulled Newt by the waistband of his pants backwards, close enough so that he could bring one fist down on Newt's left kidney, and drawing forth a sharp cry. And while the man was incapacitated from the pain, Dietrich shredded the back of his shirt and jeans with a set of razor-sharp black fingernails.

Footsteps silent even in heavy boots, Bastien was behind Hermann, and grabbed him suddenly. "I can't wait to see this." His breath smelled of sulfur, and when he planted a kiss on Hermann's cheek, it was cold and slimy like something out of a swamp. "Watch him stick him, like a rabbit on a spit. Bet he screams like a rabbit too, like a child. Pale and doughy, all soft and tasty."

The first sight of blood, Newt's blood drawn from his hand by one of Dietrich's obscenely long nails, that made Hermann back away. But Bastien was still there, still had his hand on one arm, and took the opportunity to sling his other arm around Hermann's neck.

"Watch him break your toy."

Hermann shut his eyes, but he couldn't close off his hearing to the sudden sound of pain Newt made. He couldn't stop Bastien from panting heavily near his ear as he watched. He couldn't _do anything_ to help.

"Look at him, Hermann. He'll make a nice addition to our collection at home," Lars said, his voice full of sadistic glee.

But the only thing Hermann was registering was the soft sounds Newt was making, tiny whimpers of pain, a single gasp for breath, a labored grunt. "You win," he said. "Whatever you want, just stop hurting him."

"There was never any question of that," Bastien hissed, sounding far more like a snake than a human, as his hold tightened across Hermann's neck. "You were never going to win anything. This is simply us doing what you've failed to do. What you've been failing to do for a long time now."

Newt's noises of distress were becoming louder, harder to keep himself from doing something no matter that it would make the situation worse. If this was what they wanted, if Newt was what they wanted… Hermann swallowed hard and remained still and silent.

"You've gone too far astray, forgotten our purpose," Lars said evenly, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Of course, Lars had always been more even-tempered, especially when he was in control. He'd let Dietrich and Bastien do the physical chores for him.

"Ruined!" Dietrich snapped, a thin thread of rage in his voice. The noise of something impacting flesh, the thud of a body hitting the floor, and more sounds of Newt's pain. "He ruined it! Not even a flicker!"

Bastien's arm grew alarmingly tight across his throat for an instant, and Hermann opened his eyes. A vague relief filled him, though it was short-lived because while Newt was battered and bloody and in pain, he was still alive for the time being.

"It's there," Lars replied, putting his hand on Dietrich's arm to calm him. "It'll just take longer to dig out of him." He stood in front of Hermann now, looking quite pleased with himself, with all the power and control over the situation firmly in his grasp. "You'll be coming with us. You're done here; you've failed. I should think we'll give you the same treatment as your plaything, not because it might teach you a lesson, but as simple punishment for wasting all our time."

Leaning forward and grabbing Hermann's chin, Lars got right in his face, almost nose-to-nose. "Do you know how much time I spent, convincing these sheep that a wall would protect them? And you went ahead and shit it all away. You can think about it while you watch us rip that stubborn little jewel right out of him, make him all pretty and subservient, just like Karla."

It took everything he had not to react even as he looked at the silent woman, small, blank-eyed, ghost-like, dead inside.

He'd kill Newt himself before seeing him like that, letting him suffer in that way.

Hermann ripped away from Bastien's hold, standing apart from the others, chest heaving with quickly building anger and desperation. There was no going back with them; if he did, that would be the end of everything he believed he was. And Newt as well. "No. I won't be going with you, and you won't be taking Newt."

Baring teeth that looked like he'd taken them from a shark, Bastien started to advance on him. "I'm sick of your mewling."

When he got into range, Hermann lashed out without hesitation, striking Bastien across the side of his head with his cane.

Bastien skittered back with an inhuman screech, his body flickering wildly between his mortal disguise and his grotesquely twisted demonic self.

"And I'm tired of your stench. Newt, come over here away from them. Come on, love."

That got a snort from Dietrich. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Watching Newt gather his tattered clothing around and crawl to him, Hermann answered, "Everything." With Newt at his feet, leaning against his leg, Hermann could feel the man shaking. "But I'm not going to forget what I was. I'm not going to allow myself to-"

"Yes, we've heard your speech before, and still you've done nothing. Admit to yourself, you're powerless to change anything." Lars smiled, and while it was pleasant on the surface, indulgent, the cruelty beneath was unmistakable. "Just come with us; bring your little toy along, and you can have first refusal."

Newt took a hiccuping breath, before letting out a strangled sob.

With a sigh, Lars shook his head. "You know this won't make a difference. Your motivation is purely selfish. You don't care at all for his soul. Come with us." He had the nerve to hold his hand out. "Come, Hermann."

The three of them, all whole, and wholly evil. They'd embraced their position, their duties, and they came here to treat him like the outcast. Like they were showing him mercy at taking him back. _Mercy_.

Hermann laughed. "Take your hand back. It stinks of shit. And take yourselves back to your cave. You're not welcome."

"You can't banish us. You don't have that power." Dietrich took a single step forward, Newt's blood drying on his hands and his shirt.

"I don't." Feeling Newt still shaking and seeing his blood so casually spilled on the floor by Dietrich's hands was making Hermann's ire rise once more, at a point where he thought it wasn't possible.

It was an old, forgotten feeling, and when he realized what it was, he smiled. Righteous anger was a cleansing fire in him, and before he could help himself, Hermann shed the thin layer of control that kept his true self hidden.

While Bastien and Dietrich cringed away from him, Lars frowned. "You can't just-"

Lars' body dissipated into black smoke and smoldering embers as Hermann's blade cut him down the middle. "I can't banish you, but I can send you back where you belong for a time. Long enough that you won't be back to torment anyone." His left hand dropped from the haft of his weapon to rest briefly on Newt's head. "Do you two want to leave on your own, or shall I send you away?"

Bastien didn't hesitate, his body rippling, pale flesh giving way to black muscle and his eyes burning orange, as he surged forward. His snarling was cut short as the same thing happened to him as Lars.

"You're insane! How do you even think you can-"

Hermann had a long moment to stare at Dietrich's face, the blade of his weapon through his "brother's" chest keeping them connected. Surprise more than anything. "You didn't think I would? This is better than you deserve." Then Dietrich was gone, and when Hermann looked over, Karla was a lifeless husk on the floor.

Enough of this nonsense. He put away all his trappings (and never had the term trappings seemed more appropriate) and turned his focus to dealing with the Karla's body. A quick glance at Newt had Hermann grimacing, but he couldn't leave evidence of what had happened sitting around any longer than necessary. If she were found, he had no answers for it, nothing that they would believe if he could give them.

His leg was in agony, and he embraced the way it made his heart pound and turned the edges of his vision gray. It made his strength surge, his will to survive surpass everything else he'd ever worried about in his life. When his leg hurt worse than anything any mortal could tolerate was the time he walked without a limp.

Karla's body weighed only slightly more than a large bundle of clothing, the poor woman. There was little he could do for her other than leave her somewhere far away to receive the proper respect the dead deserved.

An instant, gone and back, and the pain was pushed higher than he'd ever felt. The cold steel grating of the floor bit into his knees as Hermann collapsed. It couldn't have been more than a minute he spent like that, only able to concentrate on that all-encompassing fire ripping along every single nerve.

And then Newt whimpered; in that instant, everything else was forgotten.

Here and now. Why?

Hermann reached for his cane where he'd left it when he'd taken care of Karla, and forced himself to his feet with it. The screaming throb that radiated from his hip but ran all up and down his right side made him grimace as he limped over to Newt. "What do you want?"

They could come and go as they pleased, but this was the first time Hermann had ever been visited. Angels, three of them, watched him silently as he helped Newt first to his feet, then to sit in the nearest chair.

"Sit, Newt. I'll be right back." And in Newt's fragile state, he did so without a question or a protest. Hermann walked very calmly over to the hook his parka was hanging on, ignoring his pain and the angels behind him. He could feel them as surely as he could feel his own hands, a solid, physical presence to him. "Here, put this on," Hermann said gently when he returned to Newt.

It was eerie, even a little frightening to see Newt in such a suggestible state, and it solidified the desire in him to never sink to the level of the others simply because it was easier. "Newt, how are you feeling?" Hermann asked, carefully sinking to one knee in front of the other man; worrying about Newt kept his own physical trouble at bay. "Are you in pain?"

Newt's eyes, still impressively green but vacant, looked everywhere around the room except at any of the current inhabitants. He shook his head.

"Do you feel better?"

A small nod.

Using the arm of the chair to brace himself, Hermann stood. "Good."  He gave Newt a soft kiss to the forehead that seemed to focus the man. His hand grabbed at the back of Hermann's jacket. Putting himself between Newt and the Angels so that he could still feel the unwavering grip on his Jacket, Hermann leaned heavily on his cane while standing as straight as he could. "I ask again: what do you want?"

Every second of silence was depleting his patience just that much more, as if they had no voices of their own.

"You're not intimidating me; I'm not like the others. Just tell me what you want." His "siblings" would be circling and snarling like angry, cowardly dogs, but Hermann had fought this battle for so long internally he failed to be impressed by the thin, and overly blown, veil of righteousness the angels had about themselves.

_"Know your place."_

The pain was fading, and if he wasn't going to get a straight answer, Hermann was not going to entertain this situation any longer than necessary. He shoved his left hand in his pocket. "I do. It's here."

_"Your impudence-"_

" _What_ do you _want_? And as for my 'impudence', those are your rules, not mine." But it wouldn't do to get too angry; they didn't care at all since they came from the position of power. He was something beneath their contempt, but that was fine. That was how he managed every day, just to say his terrible situation was fine and move on.

It was fine, this would be fine.

_"You've overstepped your bounds here."_

His impudence? _Their_ impudence was astounding. "I've not overstepped my bounds. In fact, I've done more than my share of _good_ while all of you did nothing to protect what you claim is so important and precious." Newt's hand was gripping his forearm to the point of pain. Hermann lifted his chin in the face of the angels. "Besides, there's nothing you can do to me, no further punishment you can mete out. There's nothing to punish me for, and I've already claimed this one." His arm went around Newt's shoulders. "You can't touch him until he's ready to stand for judgment. Call on Seraphiel!"

The name felt strange on his tongue, foreign. Hermann thought that he'd had a name like that at one time, but had lost it in the fall and then forgotten it long ago.

Pyriel. Another familiar name suddenly in mind. That would be the one to judge Newt and cast him down. Hopefully some kind of mercy would find Newt, send him somewhere to simply wallow endlessly in his mistakes rather than suffer an eternity of torture. His arm tightened around Newt's shoulders.

"Zedekul," he whispered to Newt as the angels stood motionless in front of them. "If something happens, pray with the name Zedekul in your heart, your mind, and on your tongue. Perhaps his mercy will touch you."

Even to Hermann, the voice of the angel was near deafening, like the sound of a hundred foghorns layered beneath an otherworldly voice. Newt shrunk against his side and covered his ears.

_"It's you."_

They'd come for him, not Newt. That was unexpected, even with all Hermann's blustery declarations that they couldn't punish him. They couldn't punish him, no, but there were things that could be done beyond simple transient abuses to his flesh. "Call on Seraphiel!" Hermann said again, and while it had been a challenge before, it was a demand now. "Only he is allowed-"

_"The order comes from Seraphiel."_

That had been a desperate reach anyway. "Newt-"

"No." Newt was pulling desperately on his jacket. "No." He pulled himself to his feet and clung to Hermann as he stepped in front of him. "Don't."

"This is the way things are. I have no say in the matter. I can't fight them." With his hand coming to rest on Newt's cheek, wiping the blood away from his lip, Hermann smiled. "I know you'll take care of yourself. You don't back down from any challenge."

The angel stepped forward.

"Step aside, love." Hermann gently pushed Newt aside to stand and accept this. He couldn't imagine what they'd do to him, where he'd end up, because they had to know nothingness was his only realistic positive endpoint. Back to Hell meant little other than misery and boredom and the increased chance that he would eventually rise up as a dedicated soldier of the North Star. He took one last look at Newt. "You are adorable in that coat."

The angel, not even a name or a face, raised his sword, shining gold in the white fluorescents of the lab.

"No!" The whistle of that sword through the air as Newt shoved Hermann aside to stand in his place, and the blade struck him forcefully in the head.

 

_Self-sacrifice._

_I tried to discourage him._

_When the virtue outweighs the sin…_

Newt's eyes fluttered open to find himself on the ground looking up at the circle of angels. "So which one of you is taking me to Hell?" he asked, his voice thick and words slurred.

The big one, the one all in gold armor

_what do angels need armor for?_

and the fiery golden wings and the golden halo

_man, they are big into gold_

and the ornate spear, with an intricate golden helmet containing only blackness within, said

_no face, no head? but he's talking… ok_

_"Judgment."_

And then Hermann, looking sad and a little sweet, and Newt smiled up at him, said, "Goodbye, Newt."

"Wha-"

It was little more than a bright flash of light when the spear pierced Hermann's chest and ripped upward, and there was nothing left after.

"No!" Pushing himself from his back to his hands and knees, Newt scrabbled to where Hermann had been standing just a moment before. "What did you do?" His fingers raked at the ground, looking for something, anything that was evidence of Hermann, until they were bloody. "He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve any of that. Why?"

He could feel their presence, that humming that couldn't manage to eclipse the hurt in his heart or the pounding in his head. Oncoming tears, and shortness of breath, an accumulation of everything he'd suffered in such a short period of time.

_"Judgment."_

Newt turned his head to stare up at them. "Fuck you," he spat bitterly, the tears starting. There was a thin trail of spit running from the corner of his mouth to the ground. As the spear tip, it's point so sharp it was almost invisible, was lowered into his face, Newt stared steadily up at the angels. "Do it, you assholes. I don't care. Judge shit you'll never understand."

A white light.

***

"Dr. Geiszler, I see you've decided to join the living this morning."

With a groan, Newt sat up. His glasses were tucked into his shirt pocket, and he had managed to avoid crushing them while passed out on the worn couch he'd stashed in the lab.

_The lab. Glasses. Couch._

"What the fuck?" With trembling fingers, he fumbled to get his glasses on to bring his environment into focus. It didn't really help his confusion, only revealed that yes, he was in the lab and on the couch, and currently Hermann was giving him a very unamused look. "Hermann?"

"How drunk did you get last night?"

Newt blinked several times and wiped his mouth absently of the half-dried drool clinging to the corners. "Am I in Hell?"

"Ah, so very drunk." Hermann turned back to the chalkboard and began to erase the work there. "Don't throw up in here. The stench will linger for hours."

Forcing himself to his feet, feeling like he'd been beat up and left for dead in an alley, Newt then staggered over to the other man. "Hermann, are you… alive?"

"Of course I am, you dolt." He shrugged away and glared when Newt poked his shoulder. "Oh, I see, you're _still_ drunk. Just because we closed the breach doesn't mean you can behave like a drunken, foolish lout. There is still sensitive material in here."

"Hermann, we drifted together," Newt said quietly and watched the shoulders beneath the jacket hunch defensively.

"I am aware of that."

"What I saw…" But Newt wasn't sure what he'd seen any longer. Hermann an angel? The idea sounded ludicrous. "Are you an angel?"

"If you wish to speak about what you saw of my memories and… feelings, then please come back when you're sober." The shoulders were still hunched and tight, Hermann's arm frozen in mid-swipe of the eraser.

This time, Newt braved putting his hand on Hermann's shoulder, feeling the warmth of the body beneath the layers of clothing. "I'm not drunk. I'm just… confused. You're not an angel? Cast down when you got some ancient Ethiopian chick pregnant?"

"What on Earth…?" Hermann turned, looking both shocked and stunned, very confused, and maybe even a little angry. "You need to go to medical immediately."

_Goodbye, Newt_

"You don't remember."

"Remember what? Yes, we drifted, yes, you saw everything I wanted most to hide from you. Yes, I love you. Fine, laugh at me. Use whatever derogatory slur is popular now and be done with it."

_Judgment_

Newt just stared, not entirely sure it was at all real, or if this would end up being a nightmare scenario because he really was in Hell.

_Virtue outweighs the sin_

"You," he said with some difficulty, now just waiting for it to all blow apart like ashes in the wind, "must have not been looking very hard in the drift, dude. Because you would have seen the same thing. So I'm gonna take a chance that I passed judgment or whatever, and so did you, and do this."

"Judgment? I-"

But Newt just hooked one arm behind Hermann's neck and kissed him.


	2. The Light of Reason

He knew it wouldn't last long. It was a wonderful time, and Newt wouldn't have traded it for anything. But there was no escaping his scientific eye that Hermann was sick, and he was deteriorating, visibly, each month.

He never complained, never mentioned any kind of pain or discomfort, just kind of faded.

It was two years before Newt's heart was broken, not nearly enough time in his opinion.

There was a special light in Hermann's eyes as they went to bed. "I-I don't think I'll wake up in the morning, love."

"OK."

Hermann's fingers brushed the tears away. "It's fine, isn't it?"

"No. But yeah, you deserve some peace." He couldn't help but note that light though. "Hermann? Do you remember?"

"I do, Newt. I owe you everything. It was more than I deserved. Without you, I wouldn't have-"

"No, don't even, dude. It doesn't matter. I was an idiot, and just got lucky."

"Here, stay with me until I fall asleep."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving you." Newt turned out the light

~

Newt double-checked the GPS to make sure he was in the right place. He didn't want to walk any more than necessary in the hot sun. But this was indeed the right house at the address left to him. Just a scrap of paper left on Hermann's bedside table with an address scrawled in his handwriting.

_He'd remembered and known earlier than when Newt had finally figured it out, but that didn't change anything at all._

Just the address, no hint as to what was to be found there.

He'd kept the paper for seven months, carefully put away where he wouldn't forget about it and it wouldn't be damaged, until he finally felt he was coping with losing Hermann. He'd left his lab, declaring he was taking some vacation time, and found himself in Neasden, a quiet little place outside London, England.

Pushing his sunglasses up, Newt took a deep breath and headed up the walk to the door. When he pushed the bell, he could hear the gentle ring from within, and stood back. If this was another fallen angel that needed saving, Newt was likely to just turn around and walk away. In fact, he was contemplating it at that very moment, actually afraid of what he'd find.

But the door opened before he could consider that too seriously. "Can I help you?"

A woman. Tall, much taller than Newt, with warm brown skin and curly hair pinned up off her long, elegant neck.

_A woman._

"I, uh, think we might have a friend in common."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> I just don't even know.
> 
> echoisles.tumblr.com  
> echoislesfandom.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> [Screen cap city!](http://echoisles.tumblr.com/)   
>  [fannish reblogs, links, updates](http://echoislesfandom.tumblr.com/)


End file.
